


Fridays

by AMidnightDreary



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Banter, Developing Relationship, Everyone Needs A Hug, Feels, Fights, Hopeful Ending, Loki (Marvel) Gets a Hug, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining Loki (Marvel), Post-Avengers (2012), Protective Tony Stark, Rejection, Sarcasm, Self-Hatred, Tony Stark Needs Sleep, Trust Issues, assholes in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24478195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMidnightDreary/pseuds/AMidnightDreary
Summary: Loki's soulmate is incredibly stubborn, and Loki is incredibly scared. Pushing Stark away seems like the best option (until it doesn't anymore).
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 42
Kudos: 462





	Fridays

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks Rabentochter for reading this beforehand, you're the best.😭❤

Stark comes by once a week, like clockwork. Every Friday evening he steps out of the elevator and into Loki's rooms as if that's his right. Which it is, of course, in more than one way. The tower does belong to him, after all, and seeing Loki is also something that he can insist on.

Loki could keep him away with magic, but he doesn't. He doesn't even try, even though he is starting to get very annoyed. But well, he also catches himself looking at the time every few minutes, and on Fridays he can't bring himself to do anything productive. In fact, he can't bring himself to do anything at all. He spends the entire day waiting and checking the time and pretending to do something that isn't waiting and checking the time. 

Restlessness is something he is used to, something he has known for so long that he can't remember what being rid of it feels like. It's possible that he has never not felt restless. But on Fridays, it's especially bad. The intensity of it makes his chest tighten and steals his breath, and the tingling under his skin borders on pain. He just can't  _ concentrate. _

Relief comes when he hears the sound of the elevator. The tension leaves him with a quiet exhale, only to return with full force when the steps come closer, when he knows that Stark has found him standing in the kitchen or sitting on the sofa.

It's neither today. Loki was in the bathroom, contemplating whether taking a long shower would be enough to make Stark grow impatient and leave, but without his permission his feet have decided that the shower is not where they want to go. They want to go to wherever Stark is, which is not a new development, but is still getting more and more nerve-racking.

They meet in the hallway. Loki regains control over his feet and stops short when he sees Stark, and Stark does the same. He is wearing a suit, or at least he  _ was _ wearing a suit - he lost the jacket somewhere and the tie is loose, the first few buttons of his shirt are open. He just came from work, probably; Stark Industries, not Avengers business.

"Hi," Stark says, and he smiles.

Loki hates it when Stark smiles. It makes him feel like he swallowed a bunch of hyperactive butterflies.

He clenches his teeth and looks at Stark just briefly before he walks past him, taking care not to get too close to him. He has no idea where he's going, but the kitchen is the first thing that comes to his mind when he thinks about it. He needs to occupy his hands.

Stark follows him. "So I guess we're still doing this?"

"Apparently," Loki says. 

He stands in the middle of the kitchen for a moment, feeling lost. Then he starts making tea.

"It's ridiculous," Stark says, leaning against the doorframe. "And to be honest it's getting on my nerves."

"Well, I am not forcing you to be here. Quite the opposite, in fact."

"So you want me to go?"

Loki's hands still. The answer is no - and not only a half-hearted  _ not really,  _ but an earnest and urgent  _ please, no. _ He can't possibly say that, though. Stark knows it already, anyway.

"Yes," Loki says. "I was sure I had made that obvious, but it seems that you are even denser than I thought."

Stark doesn't say anything at first. The silence lasts a long, long while. When he finally speaks, his voice is so quiet that it almost makes Loki flinch.

"I don't get it."

Loki turns to face him; it takes every ounce of will and self-control he can muster. " _ I _ don't get what's so difficult about this" he says, keeping his face blank and his voice caustic. "I do not want you to be here, Stark. In other words, because you don't seem to understand - I would like it if you left and never returned."

Stark stands there, frozen. He's still leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, and while his expression is like carved from stone, hard and unyielding, the look in his eyes is angry. Desperate.

"No," he says. "No, you don't. I  _ know _ you don't. You -"

"I can't possibly word it any more clearly. I  _ want -" _

"I don't care!" Stark snaps, and this time Loki can't keep himself from wincing. Stark glares at him, eyes red-trimmed and tired and sad, and takes a few steps into the room. "I don't  _ fucking _ care, Loki. You don't get to lie to me. You don't get to pretend that you don't  _ want _ me and you don't get to call me  _ stupid  _ because I -"

"You  _ are _ stupid if you think you have any right to tell me what to do," Loki interrupts him icily. "I don't want to have anything to do with you, Stark, and this is my last word."

Stark is getting seriously angry now, Loki can tell. "You can't decide this alone,  _ asshole.  _ Actually, you can't decide this at all. That's the whole goddamn point."

Loki rolls his eyes and makes sure that his voice sounds especially condescending when he says, "It's fate, not death. Fate can be evaded. Fate can be tricked. If you want me to decide this or not doesn't matter, because I  _ already did." _

"Aren't you in pain?" Stark demands, ignoring Loki completely. "Because I am. My chest hurts ever since I saw you in Stuttgart, and it only gets better when you're close by. Do you - do you think I  _ like _ this? Do you think I -"

"For someone who hates this, you are awfully eager to -"

"Stop mocking me, or I swear I'm going to blast your sorry ass all the way up to God Land," Stark threats, and the worst thing is that Loki actually believes him. Stark stares at him, his mouth a thin line. "I'm not asking the world of you here, you know. But you - you were supposed to be the  _ one  _ person who gets me, who doesn't think I need to be fucking fixed. You were supposed to  _ care." _

"Oh, please. Don't tell me you -"

"I do!" Stark cuts him off, and he's shouting now. "I care about you! Even though you don't want to talk to me, I care. Even though you can't even stand to  _ look _ at me, I care! It's what I do, and I won't stop just because  _ you _ say I have to."

Loki stares at him for a long moment. "You don't even know me," he says then.

"Nope, I don't, because  _ someone _ won't let me  _ get to _ know you," Stark shoots back.

His tongue is almost as sharp as Loki's own, and right now he also seems almost as broken as Loki himself. What a couple they make. 

"You don't have to be with me twenty-four hours a day," Stark says, defeated. "You don't even have to talk to me if you really don't want to. But just - just let me  _ stay.  _ Only for a while."

Usually, the meeting of soulmates is something joyful. Something that requires days and days of celebration, of relief and happiness. But everything Loki touches turns into ice and ash, and this isn't different.

He turns away, his eyes fixed on the tea kettle. "I am here to make reparations, not friends," he says. "Please leave."

It's the 'please' that does it, he thinks.

~

He knew that his soulmate was alive the second he set a foot on Midgard, almost two years ago now. He stood in New Mexico, ready to put on a solemn face and talk to his brother, when he felt the draw. His magic knew what only magic can know, and even then it already, yearned to skywalk to wherever the source of that sudden yearning was. He resisted, though, just like he is resisting now.

It's the only thing he can do, because it's the  _ right _ thing to do. Usually, Loki doesn't care much about right and wrong, he does what  _ he _ thinks is the best - most of the time for himself. The one time he tried to do something for something greater than himself (namely, Asgard ) went impressively wrong.

But a soulmate. There is a soulmate now, someone who is supposed to get him instead of thinking that he needs to be fixed, and how could Loki ever let that happen? It's not what he deserves. It's not what Tony Stark deserves.

How could Loki be worthy of a soulmate? He can't even lift a hammer.

~

They don't see each other for two whole weeks. The pain is only getting worse. For Loki it's not his chest, it's his skin. (Of course it is.) It tingles and it burns, and often he wants to rip it off. One would think that he should be used to that sentiment by now, but he isn’t.

When Fury finally convenes a meeting to talk about some flimsy “threat” Loki does not even remotely care about, Loki glares at everyone who tries to sit down next to him. Stark enters the room, late as usual, and makes a beeline for the chair next to Loki. They don’t look at each other. Loki feels a little more anchored now, and he thinks that he doesn’t just imagine the way the tension bleeds out of Stark’s shoulders.

The battle happens the day after that, and when everything is taken care of Loki teleports back into the tower, ready to stay in his rooms for a few days or weeks or months with nobody to talk to except JARVIS, who does not enjoy talking to Loki. He’s angry on his master’s behalf, doubtlessly. 

Loki isn’t aware that it’s Friday until he hears the elevator and the steps, and he sits up on the sofa just in the time to see Stark approaching. He stops in front of the sofa, looking at Loki with a grim expression, his eyes dark, closed off.

“God,” he says. “You look pathetic.”

Loki chooses to ignore that. “Didn’t I make myself clear last time?”

“You did,” Stark says and sits down on the other end of the sofa, clearly not wanting to get any closer to Loki than necessary. “But I have this habit of not doing what people tell me to do, I’m sure you’re familiar with it.”

“Stark -”

“Nope. You’ve got two options now, Lokes. Either you shut up and tolerate my presence for fifteen minutes, or you don’t, but then I’ll tell your big brother that you’re being mean to me, and then your big brother will tell your father, and we both know you don’t want that.”

“You are an impudent fool if you think -”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Stark’s head drops back against the sofa and he closes his eyes, his jaws still clenched. “I’m an idiotic mortal who’s not worth your precious time and you would enjoy hanging me up by my entrails somewhere. There’s no reason to repeat yourself, I  _ get _ it.”

For a moment, Loki is struck silent. Stark told him several times that he knows that Loki is lying, but now he sounds like he forgot that. It settles down in Loki’s stomach like a cold stone.

“I don’t want you dead, Stark," he says quietly.

Stark opens his eyes and turns his head, looking at Loki. The battle has left a bruise on his right cheek. He looks like hasn’t slept in ages. “I know,” he says, and then he closes his eyes. “Now shut up. I’m trying to rest.”

He is asleep two minutes later.

Loki stays where he is, unable to stand up and get away. Eventually, he reaches out and gives Stark’s shoulder a nudge so that he falls on his side, his head on the pillow that Loki magically placed on the armrest just in time. Stark’s only reaction is a soft grunt.

Loki sighs and lies down himself, curling up on his side as far away from Stark as possible. He pulls his blanket up to his jaw and closes his eyes. He’s tired himself, of course he is. A soulmate bond needs time to grow and settle, time that needs to be spent together, close to each other. When that doesn’t happen, it hurts, and that sort of pain is the most exhausting thing there is.

Loki sleeps, and he doesn’t dream for the first time since Jotunheim.

~

Stark returns a few days later. Loki just cooked something for himself, and he’s sitting in the kitchen eating when Stark walks in. He barely even looks at Loki, just goes to the stove and lifts the lid of the pan to examine what’s in there. After a moment of consideration he takes a plate out of the cupboard.

“Oh, of course,” Loki drawls. “Please, help yourself.”

Stark ignores him. He leans against the counter and shoves a forkful of food into his mouth frowning. “What is this? Tastes weird. I thought it was risotto or something.”

“It’s poisonous for humans, actually.”

“Yeah, right,” Stark says around a mouthful of what is definitely not  _ risotto _ \- whatever that is. “So, I came up with a plan.”

“Really.”

“We spend a bit of time together. No talking or touching necessary, just you and me in a room trying not to slit each other’s throats. Alright?”

“No.”

“Okay, great. I’ve no idea how long it takes for the bond to, you know, be happy or whatever, but as soon as it gets its shit together and we stop hurting when we’re more than five feet apart, you can leave Earth for good. Deal?”

Loki frowns at him. “The Allfather sent me here, Stark. If I could just leave, I would have done so already.”

Stark doesn’t take the time to swallow before he speaks. “You’re supposed to be here for just a few years, anyway. I can get Fury to position you in Greenland or something, then we don’t have to see each other. And when you’re done ‘making reparations’, you can leave. That’s it.”

Loki feels anger churning in his chest. He remembers the smile Stark gave him that one time. “Two weeks ago you seemed eager to make this work. Now you’re eager to get rid of me?”

Stark makes a shocked face that’s entirely fake. “What’s with that accusatory tone, huh? I thought this was what you wanted.” He rolls his eyes. “I mean, of course we both know that you’re just a lying liar who lies, but what does it matter? I obviously can’t get you to open up, so whatever. Let’s get this bond thing fixed, because I need to be able to think clearly, and then we’re done.”

Loki smiles at him without showing his teeth. He feels like he’s bursting. “Ah, so you have decided this alone now. I see.”

Stark lets his plate sink, and the familiar spark of anger returns to his eyes. “You know what, Loki? Fuck you.”

“Oh, how eloquent.”

“You don’t get to turn this against me now,” Stark says, bitterness coloring his voice. “You can’t blame me for giving up when all you did was push me away, not after everything I did.” He looks down at the plate, angrily poking the food with his fork. “I've been trying to talk to you for months. I invited you to dinner. I invited you to my workshop. I defended you against the rest of the team, I had your back in battles. I broke up with the woman I  _ loved _ because you're all I can think about. You don’t  _ get  _ to blame me now.”

Loki’s throat is closing up. “I didn’t ask you to do any of that.”

“No, you didn’t,” Stark said sharply, looking at Loki again. “It’s my own stupidity, thinking my soulmate might want me.”

Loki can only stare at him, and after a few seconds Stark lets out a bitter snort and drops the plate in the sink. “Thanks for dinner,” he says as he leaves the room. “I’ll see you on Friday.”

~

On Friday, they sit next to each other on the sofa again. The silence is icy. Loki almost breaks it once or twice, because this makes the pain even worse. He doesn’t, though - because he doesn’t know what to say, and because he knows that he shouldn’t. No matter how painful this is, it’s still the right thing to do. Stark is right; when their bond is strong enough for them to be apart, then Loki can leave, and Stark can move on. Maybe he can reconcile with that woman he loves.

The thought alone leaves a bitter taste in Loki’s mouth.  _ Jealousy.  _ He knows what jealousy is, knows what it can make him do. It’s not pretty. He’s thankful that the woman isn’t in the tower anymore.

Soulmate bonds can be only platonic. There’s nothing  _ only _ about it, of course; platonic bonds can be just as strong and intimate as any other kind. Loki wished for that when he was younger. More than anything else he wanted a soulmate, and he didn’t care about the nature of the bond as long as it  _ existed. _ Loki has always been lonely. He didn’t think that he would feel even more lonely after meeting his soulmate, but he does.

Sometimes he catches himself dreaming. He’s attracted to Stark, that much is clear. He dreams about taking him to bed, but he also dreams about leaning against him right here on the sofa, and he dreams about making him smile. All in all that’s not platonic, is it? He can’t remember ever wanting something so much. It feels like he’s carrying the sky on his shoulders. The burden only gets lighter when Stark is close by.

He knows that Stark feels the same. Tony Stark has carried so much more than the sky on his shoulders; he’s carried the entire universe. He’s carried a nuke. He is braver and better than Loki could ever even dream to be, and Loki cannot stay with him. 

He can’t let himself ruin yet another thing he loves.

~

“What’s your problem, Loki?” Stark asks one evening, sounding like he’s still half asleep.

Loki doesn’t allow himself to look up from his book. It’s the first time Stark talked to him in two months. Every Friday he comes and sits around close to Loki for a while, almost every time he falls asleep. The silence between them is familiar by now, and maybe it doesn’t even hurt as much anymore. Loki is reluctant to let it go. The bond still hasn’t settled, and it probably won’t do so for another few months. It would go faster if they saw each other more, but it feels like that isn’t an option anymore.

“My problems are none of your business,” Loki says, and Stark sighs.

“God, you’re still an asshole,” he murmurs, seemingly to himself. Louder he says, “You obviously have one. It’s making me crazy.”

“It has nothing to do with you.”

“Wait, are you giving me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ talk? Because if so, awesome. That’s probably the most honest thing you’ve said to me.”

“No, it isn’t,” Loki says. “I told you that I don’t want you dead.”

“Oh, right. Yes, that was  _ so _ romantic of you. Made me melt right then and there.”

“I’d be surprised, but I already knew you had impressively low standards.”

Stark snorts. “If I had low standards, my soulmate wouldn’t be a god.”

“Either stop talking or leave,” Loki says, turning a page. “I’m trying to read.”

“You’re trying to be a nuisance, that’s all.”

“Stark.”

“You  _ are. _ I’ve no idea why, but you are. Do you hate me that much?”

The teasing tone is gone as if it was never there at all. Loki has to close his eyes. He tries to blame the way Stark’s voice breaks just slightly on the sleepiness.

“No,” Loki says finally, not looking at Stark. “I don’t hate you at all.”

Stark doesn’t say anything. Loki thinks he’s fallen asleep again, but then, “But you think I should hate you, huh? Is that it?”

Loki wants to leave. He wants to climb Yggdrasil until he finds a place where he can be alone, where nobody knows who and what he is. He doesn’t move, instead he says, “I did invade your planet.”

“Yep,” Stark says. “And you ruined Thor’s coronation. You ruined an entire planet, too, long before you tried to ruin mine.”

Loki’s head snaps up, he stares at Stark, shocked and angry. “You talked to Thor.”

Stark isn’t impressed. He looks at Loki, thoughtful. “I did.”

“You had no right to ask him,” Loki spits at him, “and he had no right to tell you. That was  _ not _ his story to tell.”

“No, it’s yours,” Stark agrees. “But, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, you’re not a very talkative person.”

Loki closes his book, and then he stands up and goes to his bedroom, where he locks the door behind himself.

~

Loki can’t breathe. As soon as he is able to breathe again, he will rip Amora to pieces, and then he will go to the tower and have a cup of tea. For now, though, he stands leaning against the wall of a evacuated building and holds his side, trying to press air into his lungs and magic back into his veins. Right now Amora isn’t a threat anymore; Loki used a spell powerful enough to make her more than just a bit dizzy for a while, but Norns, did she put up a fight. She’s very good at mind control, but he is better, which doesn’t mean that his head  _ won’t _ hurt for the next five days.

“Are you okay?”

Loki looks up to see Stark, who just landed in front of him. His faceplate is up, and Loki can see the concern in his wide eyes.

“I’m fine,” Loki says, trying not to wheeze. “Go and chase her.”

“Thor’s already doing that." The suit opens and Stark steps out, still staring at Loki. "What did you do to her?”

“I merely gave her a taste of her own medicine,” Loki says, standing up straight. He takes a few steps, but everything starts spinning, and his legs threaten to give way beneath him.

Immediately, Stark’s hands are on him, keeping him on his feet. “But you took a sip too, didn’t you? Shit, Loki, you’re ice cold.”

_ That’s not her doing, _ Loki wants to say, but he passes out before the words can pass his lips.

~

He wakes up on what feels like his sofa. His head still hurts, but all in all he’s not as sore as he expected. But what surprises him more is that there is a hand running through his hair. It feels so good that Loki pretends to be asleep for a while longer, enjoying the warmth of the fingers, the genteless. Nobody has touched him like that in ages. In fact, nobody had touched him  _ at all _ in a very long time.

Loki opens his eyes and when he turns his head, he sees Stark sitting on the floor next to him. It’s Stark’s hand in his hair, because of course it is. He withdraws it as soon as he notices that Loki is awake.

“Hello there,” Stark says, a strange look in his eyes. “Welcome in the land of the living. How do you feel?”

Confused, mostly. But Loki doesn’t say that. “Fine. Better. Did you -”

“Carry you here bridal style? Yep. JARVIS has the footage.” Stark pats the sofa and gets up. “I’ll show it to you the next time you’re an asshole. So what happened?”

Loki sighs and covers his eyes with his underarm. “I used too much magic, that’s all. You can go.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Stark says, in a ridiculous tone that’s probably supposed to be an imitation of Loki’s voice. “That was so _kind_ of you. What can I ever do to -”

“Don’t think I haven’t enough energy left to eviscerate you,” Loki tells him tiredly.

“And again with the entrails. Here, drink.”

Loki takes his arm away from eyes and looks up at Stark, surprised. Stark is offering him a glass of water, wiggling his eyebrows when Loki doesn’t move.

“C’mon, princess. I don’t have all day.”

Loki glares at him and sits up. He takes the glass and drinks, but Stark still doesn’t leave. He stands there with his arms crossed, looking down at Loki.

“What’s your problem?” he asks. Again.

“My problem is -”

“None of my business, yes,” Stark interrupts. “I know. And you’re still a liar.” He pauses, then, “You know, if you gave me an explanation, not talking to you would be much easier.”

“Oh, I’m sure Thor told you everything you need to know,” Loki says, and it’s not even a lie.

He puts the empty glass on the sofa table and stands up, relieved when he finds that he isn’t dizzy anymore. He goes to leave the room, but after just a few steps Anthony’s hand is on his arm and holds him back.

“Hey,” Stark says, his tone as urgent as his eyes. “Don’t do that again.”

Loki looks at him blankly. “What?”

“Pass out on me like that. You scared me to death. Just - don’t do that again.”

Loki frees his arm out of Stark’s grip. “Would you rather be defeated by the Enchantress than see me pass out?”

The desperate look in Stark’s eyes turns into a glare. “Actually, yes.”

Loki stares at him, stunned speechless. The glare softens into something that’s much, much worse, and then Stark takes a step back.

“Go to bed and sleep it off. Tell JARVIS if you need anything.”

And then he’s gone. Loki stays behind, still staring after him, and he thinks,  _ honesty. _ He can’t give Stark anything else. Why can’t he at least give him that?

~

Stark’s workshop is right below his penthouse. Loki has never been there before, but he can only hope that the invitation still stands. Apparently it does, because JARVIS lets him enter without any problems.

He barely even notices what the room looks like, and he doesn’t care. Stark is sitting at a work table, a boot of his suit in front of him and a tool of some kind in his hand, and he looked up as soon as Loki entered. He’s frowning now.

“What are you doing here? It’s not Friday, is it?”

Loki shakes his head. He stops next to Stark’s desk, unable to look at Stark. He taps the tabletop with his fingertips, a quick, nervous rhythm he can’t stop until Stark takes the part of his precious suit that’s closest to Loki’s hand out of his reach and places it on the other end of the table. It’s just a piece of metal that doesn’t mean anything at all to Loki, something he couldn’t make use of if he tried, but of course Stark doesn’t want him to touch it.

Loki swallows and locks his hands behind his back. “I wish to speak to you.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Stark says. He isn’t looking at Loki anymore. “I’m working.”

“I didn’t want to wait until Friday,” Loki says. “I just -”

“I don’t care.”

Loki loses his patience. “You wanted an explanation, didn’t you? I am trying to give you one.”

Stark shoots him a glare, but he finally drops his tool and turns on his stool so that he can look at Loki directly. “Fine, then talk. I’m listening.”

Loki braces himself, tries to keep his breathing even. He thought about what to say, he just needs to remember it now. “I am not -,” he starts, but has to try again, “I am not who you think I am. Or who you want me to be. You know what I did, but that is not all there is. I don’t know if Thor told you, but I am not… I am not an Aesir like he is.”

It’s silent for too long. Then Stark says, “I know. He told me. So?”

Loki stares. “What do you mean?”

“What about it?” Stark reaches for a towel that lies around somewhere on his desk and cleans his hands. “You’re not from Asgard, okay. So you’re from  _ another  _ planet that I can’t pronounce, that doesn’t mean anything to me. The wars that planet had with Asgard don’t mean anything to me, either. I'm not trying to be insensitive or anything, I know that - I know that you hate it. But it doesn't make a difference to me. You're still, you know. You."

"You have no idea what you're speaking of."

"Maybe I don't." Stark sighs and tosses the towel away again. "I don't know what you want me to say. I don't even know what you think you're telling me."

Loki isn't sure if he knows, either. He doesn't know how to make Stark understand, how to make him see how hopeless this is. Maybe then he wouldn't be so bitter about it. 

"This will not work out," Loki says finally, but that's not enough.

"We're soulmates, Lokes."

Loki shakes his head. "Soulmates do not always work out. This is -"

"You can't just decide that we won't work out when you haven't even  _ tried.  _ You -" Stark cuts himself off, pressing his lips together. He turns back to his work. "No, we - we're not having this discussion again. Okay? It's fine. You'll leave as soon as you can, anyway. I won't stop you."

He's given up. Loki has achieved exactly what he wanted to achieve; Stark  _ has _ already lost hope. As so many others before, he's gotten to the conclusion that Loki isn't worth the effort. That he can't be saved.

And he's right.

"Yes," Loki says, a little roughly. "That would probably be the best. I… I will go, then." He clears his throat and glances at the work table. "I wish you the best. With that."

Stark doesn't say anything, so Loki turns around and wants to leave, but Stark grabs his wrist and keeps him from walking away. Again.

"Loki," he says, and Loki turns and looks at him. Stark's expression is careful and uncharacteristically uncertain, his fingers gentle and warm on Loki's skin. "I don't - I don't want you to hurt. Okay? So if you…"

He trails off. It seems that he doesn't know what to say, either. Loki can't hold his gaze, so he looks at their hands; Stark still hasn't let go of Loki's wrist. The fact that he's still willing to touch Loki at all is a wonder. Loki thinks about a hand in his hair, about concern and devotion and anger, and he wants to teleport away. But it's too late, Stark already noticed - maybe he does know Loki a little bit, after all.

He stands up and then suddenly wraps his arms around Loki and pulls him close. Loki actually shudders, and even though he wants to pull away he can't bring himself to do so, because it feels so _good._ So instead of taking a step back he puts his hands on Stark's back and grasps his shirt, feeling - desperate, almost. He has been wanting to do this ever since he saw Stark fot the first time, and now he's not willing to let go any time soon.

Thankfully, Stark only holds him tighter. Loki can feel his breath against his neck, warm and a bit shallow, and he can also feel Stark's heartbeat - quick and fierce, like the man himself.

Oh gods. What has he  _ done? _

"I'm sorry," Loki whispers. "I don't -"  _ I don't want you to hurt, either.  _ "I'm  _ sorry." _

"I'm not mad anymore," Stark says, his voice rough as well.

But that's not  _ enough. _

"You should raise your standards," Loki tells him. "You deserve someone better."

Now Stark pulls away, and even though Loki doesn't want him to, he lets it happen. Stark leaves his hands on Loki's shoulders and stays close, though, so - it's fine.

"I've gotten  _ you,"  _ Stark says, quiet and urgent. "I'll never get anyone else. I'll never want anyone else. Loki, you - you're  _ mine." _

It knocks the air out of Loki's lungs. "How can you say that? Why do you  _ still -" _

"It's not like I can just turn it off," Stark interrupts him, flippant now. "I told you, I care about you."

Loki finally takes a step back, wringing his hands. "You shouldn't."

"Don't tell me what I should and shouldn't do," Stark says, but it lacks sharpness. He looks at Loki a moment longer, then averts his eyes. "Look, I - I don't know what you want from me. I thought we'd settled this." 

"I want  _ everything _ from you," Loki blurts out, unable to hold himself back. "I want more than I deserve to have."

Stark meets his eyes, bitter again. "You're scared that I decide you're not worth my time, so  _ you _ decided not to be with me at all. That makes you a bit of an asshole, but it doesn't make you a  _ monster,  _ Loki. It doesn't mean you don't deserve what you want. And if you want is what I want, and I'm sure it is, then this would work out fine. At least that's what I think." He pauses, and his lips twitch into a joyless smile. "But you don't trust me at all, apparently. And you don't even want to try. Or do you?"

Loki doesn't know what to say to that. Stark is completely right, of course, and he knows it. He also deserves an answer, and right now Loki just doesn't know what answer he wants to give.

"Do you trust me?" he asks after a moment, watching Stark closely.

"I wanted to," Stark says, lifting his shoulders. "But I'm not sure what to think anymore, if I'm honest."

"Yes," Loki agrees quietly. "Me neither."

He wants Stark to know that Loki never wanted to hurt him. The only thing he wanted was to protect him, but it seems like he isn't good at protecting things.

"I'm sorry," he says again. "I've handled this awfully, I know. I only wanted to keep you safe. From me."

Stark rubs his eyes. "I feel like you need to see a therapist." He seems to be thinking, then he says, "You know, there's one thing I don't get. If you really didn't want to have anything to do with me, why did you even come here?"

"The Allfather sent me here," Loki says, because that's the safest answer.

"Oh, come on. As if you didn't have a single chance to flee, what with your mojo and everything."

"Maybe," Loki says vaguely. "But, well." He sighs, reluctant to say anything more. He decided to be honest, though, didn't he? "A moment of weakness, if you will. I… I wanted to be close to you."

"That's - good to know, actually," Stark says, and he smiles.

The overactive butterflies show up again. Before he knows it, Loki is carefully smiling back.

~

It's Friday, and Loki is in the elevator on his way up to the penthouse. It's a weird feeling, and somehow he is so nervous that he almost stops the elevator with magic several times. But then the doors open with a  _ ping _ and he steps out before he can change his mind, and not much later he finds Stark sitting on his sofa, staring at Loki as if he's wondering if he is hallucinating.

"Hello," Loki says annoyingly lamely. "JARVIS told me you were here, so I thought…"

"Oh," Stark says. "Yes. Uh. Hi."

"I can leave if you -"

"No! No, it's okay. Come here."

Hesitantly, Loki goes and takes a seat next to Stark on the sofa. Stark is still looking at him oddly, and Loki feels rather uncomfortable.

"What?" he says, his eyes narrowed.

"Nothing." Stark doesn't look like it's nothing. "Just. I didn't think - does this mean what I think it means? Because if I'm just reading too much into it, then -"

"No," Loki interrupts. "No, you are not." He takes a breath. "I thought maybe we could have dinner."

"Dinner," Stark echoes.

"Yes, Stark, dinner. That's what you call it when you eat in the evening."

Stark frowns and looks down at his tablet, practically ignoring what Loki said. "Okay," he says slowly. "But - I don't think I can take anymore… back and forth. You have to be sure. If you want to - try."

"I am sure."

"If you change your mind tomorrow, I'll probably slit your throat."

"I assume that's fair."

Stark looks at him again, and what surprises Loki is that Stark seems exactly as uncertain and  _ scared _ as Loki feels. Which is oddly reassuring, because it means that this is just as important to him. And sure, that isn't a surprise after everything Stark said and did, but the relief Loki feels is sudden and intense.

Maybe Stark has a little hope left, after all. Maybe they still have a  _ chance. _

"JARVIS, order pizza, please," Stark says, then, "Call me Tony or I swear I'm going to freak out."

"Fine," Loki says carefully. "Tony."

The name feels oddly good on his tongue.

~

Later, long after dinner, they sit closer together than they ever have before.  _ Tony _ is practically slumped against Loki's side, his head on his shoulder. He fell asleep some time ago, and Loki doesn't intend to wake him up. Tony looks so tired all the time; he needs all the sleep he can get and, more than anything else, Loki wants to take care of him.

He has much to make up for.


End file.
